Absence of Fear
by Jenwryn
Summary: Tonks/Remus. Set after HP & The Deathly Hallows, and written because I get so miffed at them dying off-screen, so to speak. Somewhat odd, but that's normal with me. Character death. "the last enemy to destroy is death"... R&R.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. Original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. Not beta read; don't jinx, however corrective spells are more than welcome to be cast in my direction…

A/N: The title comes from a Jewel song.

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**Absence of Fear

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**

_'Because I could not stop for Death— _

_He kindly stopped for me— _

_The Carriage held but just Ourselves— _

_And Immortality.'_

Emily Dickinson, 'Because I could not stop for Death', c.1863.

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Tonks was dead and she knew it. She'd known before it had happened, actually, because she'd seen the Killing Curse coming – seen the colour and the flash before it hit her inches above her navel. She couldn't recall that it had particularly hurt. Perhaps it had, perhaps memory is just selective when it comes to death – perhaps it's like childbirth. It seems right somehow that there should be a similarity between birth and death, all things considered. And how often had her mother said it to her in the last year: _'hurts more than you can imagine, sweetheart, but you'll forget faster than you can imagine, too.' _As usual, her mother had been right, of course. The memory had started to fade the moment they'd placed Teddy's warm little self between her breasts. 

_Teddy_…

Tonk knew she had a body, because she could feel the tears pouring unchecked down her face. She didn't cry for herself. She cried for her son and she cried for her mother, who had been left alone in the world so unjustly. She cried because she would never see his first step taken, or his first broomstick, or the day he was chosen by a wand. She would never see the time when he brought home some girl, hoping she'd be approved by herself and Remus. Oddly enough, though Tonks had never thought about being a grandmother before, now she cried for that too.

And she cried for Remus.

She hadn't wanted him to die as well.

Tonks had never cried so much when she was alive as she did now that she was dead. Perhaps it was because she was on her won and she felt no need to be brave for anyone, not even for herself. She simply sat on the ground and put her arms around her knees and sobbed, and the salty water rand down over her arms and along her bare legs.

Time passed – or perhaps it didn't – until eventually she could cry no more and so stopped. It seemed that being dead was a rather quiet experience. She wasn't at all sure that she was going to like it much. Rising to her feet it occurred to her that she wouldn't mind some clothes, and then spotted some hanging over the back of a chair. Well, that was convenient. Tonks dressed and then for the first time she looked around herself properly.

She was in the basement kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, which was in her opinion frankly more than a little odd. Of all the things that death would look like, the ex-headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix certainly hadn't ranked high on her suggestion list. Hogwarts, she could have understood, since that was where she'd died – or her childhood home – or – but _Grimmauld Place_ Perhaps it was the memories of Remus that had done it or – she paused. Or perhaps this was only an in-between place. That was what Sirius's old home had always felt like to her. An in-between place, the point of connection between the Order and missions; the in-between place between her life before and after Remus; the in-between place, even, if you had to get all deep and meaningful about it, between the last of her girlhood and becoming a married woman.

It had a logic to it. Perhaps she still had a choice to make. After all… some people went back as ghosts. Did she want to be a ghost? Always lingering, always there but never anywhere really? If she went back she could see how the Battle had ended. If she went back she could watch Teddy grow up… but what a horrid thing to do to a child. What kind of mother would she be if she did that? No. Tonks knew his grandmother would do a good job, she always did, and then he had his godfather – because Tonks simply refused to believe that Dumbledore's Army and the Order and Harry hadn't somehow won.

No. She didn't want to become a ghost.

Besides.

Then there was Remus.

They'd died together – she'd seen him fall just seconds before she had – so oughtn't he be around here someplace too? If this was the point where you headed on, chose not to linger, well – well, then she'd be damned if she was making the next move without her husband at her side. Still, apparently you ended up on your own. Well, that was stupid. What was it, some kind of game like the Sorting Hat, or sitting an exam, and you weren't supposed to influence each other's ghosty decisions or something? Pah.

Tonks stomped up the stairs and then down the hallway, glancing into the living room as she went, as though half expecting him to pop up out of nowhere. Then she suddenly had a thought. Well, the clothes had appeared, hadn't they? And she'd made her decision, so… she gazed at the front door, and longed, ached and longed, with every ounce of her soul.

The sound of knocking on the door made her heart spring into her throat and she ran to it, knocking over that repulsive umbrella holder on the way, and flung the door open. 'Remus!'

'Tonks…'

She stepped out onto the steps where he stood, and he wrapped his arms around her and she was delighted beyond belief to discover that he _could _– that he could hold her tight, that she could squeeze her hands against his back, that she could smell the familiar scent of his skin. It was quite a long time – or perhaps it wasn't – before he released her and held her at arms length and smiled, with a twinge of sadness.

'I'm so sorry, Dora.'

She shook her head, and to her surprise a tear slipped down her cheek even though she'd thought she'd cried herself dry. She wiped it away.

'Don't be sorry, Remus. I'm – I'm sorry too, but…' She gave a helpless little shrug.

Remus looked younger than she had ever seen him. He wasn't as shabby – though she was glad he still was a little, because she liked it somehow – and his hair was thicker and darker. She reached out a hand to it and whispered, 'And me? Have I changed too?' Was that concern in her voice? Concern that she might have somehow ended up a thirteen year old and not have noticed?

Her husband's sadness lifted all in one go and he smiled warmly and caressed her face. 'No. You're as beautiful as the day I married you, as beautiful as that and more.'

She moved her hand from his hair to the silver scars upon his face, and she was glad too that they hadn't gone. But then she looked at him again and then looked around them and at the moonlight that poured down upon them in this in-between place, like rays of translucent milk, and she whispered in awe, 'Remus… it's full-moon.'

He looked upwards and bathed his face in the liquid white-gold and laughed a free, young laugh. 'So it is, so it is!'

And for a while all they could do was gaze at each other and at the full sphere above them.

Then Remus put hi hand inside his coat and pulled out a dented old spoon.

'I brought a Port-Key,' he explained.

She looked at it, curious. 'And where does it go to?'

He shrugged. 'I have no idea. Oh, I suppose, on to… whatever's next.'

'Good. I don't think I would deal very well with an eternity spent in Grimmauld Place.'

He laughed again. 'No. No, that might be a bit much.' Then he paused, and looked pensive. 'Eternity… that's a daunting thought, really.'

'I know,' she whispered, then put her hand on the spoon around his. 'What was it Professor Dumbledore always said? The death is nothing more than the next great adventure to the well-organised mind? Well, I'm not sure how organised my mind is, but I'm willing to try my hand at another adventure, with you at my side.'

'So am I. Are you – are you frightened?'

She looked at him and smiled. 'Strangely… no.'

He put his free hand around her neck, entwining his fingers in her bright pink hair, and beamed. 'Nor am I.'

Then the spoon glowed blue and they vanished, and so did Grimmauld Place, and the moonlight, and that in-between place faded into nothing – which is to say, everything.


End file.
